Victoria's Secret Angels: The Normalization of Type in Visual Advertising

 

For the most part, the advertising of these past few decades has occupied a very visual space. Print ads, television commercials, billboards - they're all a part of our day-to-day imagery. And I'm interested in how this day-to-day imagery influences our thinking, and in turn, our actions - because even if we're not hyper-aware of the particular ways that the totality of quotidian visual information - or we're not able to link specific images to specific thoughts - I can assure you that the link is still there, and the effect of advertising images is not trivial.

I'm going to use lingerie models to explain this.

Victoria's Secret was started in 1977 by Roy Raymond, who felt embarrassed when buying lingerie for his wife. Victoria's Secret was supposed to be a lingerie retailer that was comfortable for men to shop at, and it expanded from one store and a mail-order catalog to its chain store status today: there are more than 1000 Victoria's Secrets stores in the U.S. alone. But more than that, the models for Victoria's Secret (they're called "angels") are iconic: ask any college girl and they'll most likely be able to recognize at least one Victoria's Secret Angel and maybe tell you a first name as well. The Victoria's Secret annual fashion show (which happened a few weeks ago, coincidentally) is also a big deal. My point is, the image of the Victoria's Secret Model - deployed through mall advertising, online advertising, and mail order catalogs - is pervasive and very affective. And by affective, I mean that these Victoria's Secret ads affect how we think about women's bodies and essentially normalize a certain type of female body.

Of course, this type of female body is only one of many, and I'd say that it doesn't represent the majority of women's bodies. Tall, thin, huge breasts, long legs, blemish-free faces - but somehow, this type has been consecrated as an ideal? Why? I would argue that advertising is a form of normalizing images. Advertising sets standards, advertising affirms certain body types, and advertising gives cultural visibility to certain individuals. This cultural visibility can translate into public approval as well as public desire, and yet, public approval and public desire also feed into what is culturally visible - it's all a bit of a vicious cycle. We see celebrities in advertisements as much as individuals featured in advertisements become celebrities (e.g. the Subway guy who lost a lot of weight?). 

I'm trying to think about how this all happens - and what gives advertising the authority to engage in such a determining process of normalization. It's irresistible in many ways, but also subversive. Women begin to hate their bodies and strive to look like Victoria's Secret Angels - not necessarily questioning where that desire for that Angel body comes from. Accepting the "types" we see in advertising as the standard, as the ideal is certainly blind acceptance, and this blind acceptance limits the acceptance of diversity, of difference, of other types. Because exclusive acceptance of one ideal is the rejection of so many others. 

Advertising has given us a normalized definition of beauty and sexiness, but I think this can be changed by giving increased cultural visibility to a wide array of types and body types. So here's to the possibility of shorter Angels and larger Angels and squat Angels and curvier angels; to the possibility of more black Angels and Asian Angels and Hispanic angels. Advertising is normalizing, so why don't we normalize diversity?

The State of Advertising Address

 Let’s flush out the concept of advertising as it exists today.

In its purest form, advertising is a way to bring visibility to a product or a service. Its ultimate goal is some sort of conversion in which a person decides to buy a product or use a service or watch a particular movie. On a fundamental level, advertising attempts to steer our choices. It presents us with one specific choice which is accompanied by a message, no matter how subliminal, “choose me!”

But the state of advertising today is not merely a means to an end. In fact, I would argue that advertising is an end unto itself—not necessarily purposed as such by its producers and creators, but by its audiences who treat advertisements as products and more specifically, as entertainment. I’ll use myself as an example: as someone who has little to no interest in watching or understanding the game of football, the Superbowl has one main draw for me: the half-time commercials. Millions of dollars are spent every year on these commercials, and the airing of these commercials has become an event unto itself. If an ad is shocking or successful enough, it can even overshadow the “main” event—the football game itself.

Nowadays, we enjoy advertisements like we enjoy TV shows or movies. We pass YouTube links around telling our friends, “Watch this ad. It was hilarious!” When I go to the movies, I am as excited for the movie previews as I am for the movie itself, which is a testament to our affinity for the micro-narratives embedded into advertisements. I’ve been thinking about the psychology behind this advertisement-as-entertainment scheme, and I think advertisements function as short comedy sketches or vignettes that can fulfill our desires for new and interesting narratives without occupying too much of our time and attention. We are a distracted society, after all. But I think advertisements can also function as commentaries on our society in the way that they point out something we know about ourselves but would hesitate to talk about. Advertisements can be self-mocking; they can be absolutely ridiculous; they can be parodic; and they can be poignant. Advertisements as form do not need to conform to a specific genre to be functional or even successful—a fact which gives the producers of these ads room to be creative (I know there are corporations who place limits and constraints around this production, but I’m highlighting the fact that ads have the potential to be creative—not necessarily that all ads are creative). More and more, with the way that we spend so much time online or on YouTube, I think advertisements can begin to occupy an educational and innovative space—a space that would become interdisciplinary and multi-faceted, that would not solely be about a product or service or object but also include other kinds of commentaries and ideas. I see the advertising space right now changing with technology, and I think we will see the transformation of the medium of advertisements into a hybridized vessel that combines selling with other motives. The growth of technology is unpredictable and ever-expansive, and I’m excited to see how advertising will be changed because of it.

Women and Cars

"What are you looking at?"

...

"You're undressing me with your eyes"

This Italian commercial for the Fiat 500 isn't particularly unique or surprising. Sexy women and sexy cars, we've seen it all before. But what strikes me about this ad in particular is that it reinforces an idea that society has constructed around (1) objectifying women in a literal sense and (2) male ownership of females and (3) giving objects a gendered identity.

Let me explain.

When a man becomes extremely attached to an object he owns - this is usually a car or a music instrument - he will (very often) name that object. The object usually takes on a feminine identity - which I'm sure has deeply psychological underpinnings, and speaks to both masculine desire and ego. In this ad, the Fiat 500 - a new and sexy car - becomes a sexualized object because it is equated with this hot, Italian woman. The point is this: the Fiat 500 makes the slightly geeky-looking man weak in the knees just as a woman might. The car, in effect, has the same effect as a woman on a man - and even though that could arguably speak to the role woman as seductress, I'd actually beg to differ that the woman as seductress role here is not empowering but demeaning. There is nothing surprising here, unlike this ad, because the train of thought in this kind of advertising is that it's necessary to play up to men's egos (men own cars like men own women) for men to buy products. It's time that we start breaking down this correlation between women and cars - and women as objects. As sexy as this advertisement may be, let's admit it - it's by no means creative or innovative.

Canadian Club: A View of Masculinity

These ads for Canadian Club are undoubtedly attractive and catchy. The color of the photographs are warm and saturated, the typography is aesthetically pleasing and attention-grabbing, and the message is strong and demanding. What’s interesting about this ad is that the product is at the very end of the message; in other words, it seems to be more of an afterthought than anything else and it is the trail of thought the viewer must follow that gives strength to the product itself. The success of the ad is contingent upon the associations that the viewer gleans from the ad—associations that are superimposed upon the product later: sharp, masculine, smart, and sexy.

In this ad campaign, Canadian Club is relying very explicitly on a narrow and categorical definition of masculinity, a view of heteronormative masculinity that involves sex, fishing, shaving, and cocktails—all of which—for a real man, according to these ads—are effortless. What’s not included in this definition of masculinity? Metrosexuality. Pilates. Moisturizing. Pink cocktails. And certainly not abstinence, says Canadian Club. These are modern buzzwords that Canadian Club relegates to femininity, suggesting that their whisky drink is both classic and masculine—because YOUR dad (also classic and masculine) drank it. That’s “damn right”—your dad—who slept with other girls before your mom, who got two numbers in one night, who went fishing instead of doing pilates—drank whisky cocktails, and they tasted good. So if you want to be as manly as your dad—the manliest hero of them all—do the manly thing and drink some Canadian club.

The aesthetics of these ads command a dreamy nostalgia of an imagined past—because the audience they are addressing must be young—given that the people in these 70s-era photos include “your dad.” This assumes that the viewer has not lived in the 60s or 70s but have parents that did. And despite this constructed fantasy of masculinity and the contrived photos that come along with it, nostalgia is (and may always be) trendy. Nowadays, people fetishize past decades, associating particular aesthetics, bands, fashions, and attitudes with the 20s, the 50s, the 70s, the 90s—you name it. This yearning for a past we never experienced is comforting in the face of accelerating technology, I’m sure—and it’s why we revel in Instagram and Hipstamatic, mobile apps that create sepia-toned and faded photos reminiscent of Polaroids; it’s why we are advocates of vinyl and find vintage fashions novel. And Canadian Club smartly capitalizes on this nostalgia.

Pilates? Metrosexuals? Moisturizing? Pink cocktails? Those are sissy creations of the 21^st century. You really want to be a man? The kind of man who existed in the 70s? (Yeah, those were real men). Well then, you better drink up—because Canadian Club is the way to manhood.

What Happens On Da Laptop, Stays On Da Laptop

As consumers with limited cash to spend, we make choices every day between the thousands of services and products vying for our wallets.  And amid the fray & frenzy, those companies and services that offer security, insurance, or precautionary measures can easily be overshadowed by more tantalizing products.  Buying insurance of any sort seem less urgent than, say, purchasing a new album or a concert ticket, or replacing your empty tube of toothpaste.  You’re not actually getting anything for your money – you’re only paying to avoid things you don’t want.  So a major advertising maneuver for security services is to elaborate (and exaggerate) the damages and disasters that might befall you should you choose to forego their security.  In many respects, companies that deal in burglar alarms or flood insurance have it easier -- they can show frightening images of the concrete disasters that they promise to fend off.  But if you’re a technological security service, such as Norton by Symantec, it’s much more difficult to put a face on the digital villain.  They must figure out how to render technological dangers perceptible to the buying audience -- and how to make those dangers feel not only real, but imminent.

Norton’s 2011 campaign is creative and entertaining, and succeeds in an unlikely way.  Their series of advertisements consist of a yellow background, with different file names printed in simple type across the page – .mp3 files, .mov files and .jpg files.  The entire thrust of the campaign lies in the clever file names, which hint at deeply personal content of some kind – content with sentimental value, historical value, or just potentially embarrassing value, such as "TheMomentSheSaidYes.jpg" (sentimental), “GrandpaDoingTheRunningMan.mov” (familial-sentimental), or “FellAsleepOnTheCouch_AKA_FunWithMagicMarker.jpg” (blackmail-worthy).  These file names, while specific and personal at first glance, are also fundamentally generic – I mean, you may not have a .jpg of yourself with a magic-marker moustache, but instead you might have a .bmp file of that time you passed out on Widener Steps in your Halloween costume.  Norton hopes that you see the file names and grin, because there's a good chance that you have a parallel file somewhere in the labyrinth of your laptop. 

The punchline of the ad comes in the small black print in the bottom left corner of the page: “It’s not just data.  It’s your life.”  And that's the sentiment Norton needs to sell if they want to sell their product.  Norton is marketing aggressively in the intersection of our everyday mediascapes, technoscapes, and terrorscapes­.  The media files that are strangely precious to you (and integral to your identity!) are technological in nature -- and at the same time, they are under threat from menacing technological forces.  By subtly (and, in the tagline, overtly) suggesting that your life and personal history are constituted entirely of data like home movies, pictures, and sound recordings, Norton markets itself as a hugely desirable digital safeguard.  

Sweet, Savory, Spiritual

While waiting for the subway to arrive at Porter Square, I noticed this ad across the platform: it read “Church with Benefits” in large print, with the sub-header: “Practical spirituality served up with complimentary culinary treats. Sweet, savory, spiritual.” Fittingly, I had just come from a church service and was amused but also annoyed by this advertisement. A few things crossed my mind:

(1)  When did churches start advertising themselves? Are they in such a position where they need advertising through commercial means? Are they "keeping" up with the times or is the face of "evangelism" changing? Advertising itself is a money-oriented business - which seems to be (in theory) a counterpoint to the "business" of religion. What I mean by money-oriented business is that advertising is driven by money, you need money to advertise, and you advertise to bring in money—which leads me to my second point.

(2)  If the ultimate end-goal of (most) commercial advertising is to bring in money (through convincing the consumer to buy/use a product or service), then what does that say about the end-goal of this “religious” ad? This ad’s immediate goal is to attract people to the church’s services—but does the medium through which they are attempting to fulfill this goal strengthen the deprecatory church-money connection? Should there be a division between church and commerce akin to the division between church and state? (Also, refer to Matthew 21:12 where Jesus overturns the tables of the money-changers in the temple.)

(3)  The selling point of this ad, for a church, is food. Food? Really? I wonder about the effectiveness of this ad because I’m not sure who their target audience is, and I think it’s necessary for an effective advertisement to understand their viewers. The kind of person who is seeking spirituality might be on the subway, but if they are spiritually “hungry,” will the lure of “culinary treats” be enough to spur him/her on? Or is this ad literally trying to attract people who are physically hungry and looking for food? Which brings me to my fourth point:

(4)  The content of this ad both undermines both the authority of the church and the intelligence of the viewer. In other words, this ad dumbs down spirituality. Perhaps it is appealing to a more primal instinct (the need for food?), but to think that someone who is spiritually curious would attend church to fulfill their primal needs seems, to me at least, to make a mockery of human intelligence and the desire for real spiritual “food.”

What do you think about churches advertising themselves?

When Cigs Are Good for the Soul

'Well the night does funny things inside a man

These old tom-cat feelings you don't understand

Well I turn around to look at you, you light a cigarette,

I wish I had the guts to bum one, but we've never met,

And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.'

-Tom Waits

The Secret

This Campari ad was released in February 2005 Italy. The agency in charge of production was D'adda Lorenzini Vigorelli BBDO.

 What is your most visceral reaction after watching this?

This ad is called "The Secret" - a title which in and of itself is loaded with  meaning. The "secrets" here are layered, the first layer being a personal secret: each of the two transgendered characters, dressed in formal attire for some kind of gala or party, harbor secrets which are revealed in a second secret: a secret rendezvous in which true identities come to the surface. Both of these secrets are tied into Campari's branding of their alcoholic drink as being derived from an old and ancient "secret recipe" - a link which - though it provides a framework for this ad - is realized only as an afterthought (because that's what the intellectualized message that underlies an ad (the signification) usually becomes).

Let's start at the surface of this ad, at the narrative line. The scene is set at a cocktail party with red carpet (Campari is red), and from a distance, we see (what we assume to be) a woman in a black backless dress ascending a white staircase. The ad cuts to an androgynous-looking figure wearing a suit and tie (the apparel suggest this figure is a man, though the face seems to have both effeminate and masculine qualities), who is at a bar. There is a moment in which the woman in the dress turns around at the top of the staircase, presumably making eye contact with the figure in the suit, and it is in this moment that an intention is understood. The figure in the suit grabs a glass of Campari (another "secret") and follows the woman in black through large empty rooms until he(?)* catches up with her. In this confrontation, as she turns around, he, still in motion, spills his Campari on her - more specifically, in between her breasts, where her halter dress plunges. There is a sultry moment in which she gazes intensely at him, and then undoes her dress, revealing a masculine body with no breasts at all. She smears her lipstick with the back of her hand, and in response, he opens up his dress shirt, revealing breasts that have been bound, and then lets down his hair. The ad ends with an overlay of the words, "Campari. Red passion," with the two figures staring intensely at each other in the background.

*The English language actually works in favor of binary categories of gender because people are generally relegated to "he" and "she," while there is no pronoun for someone who does not identify clearly with either of those categories. "It" can be used but has a derogatory, animalistic connotation. In this advertisement, "he" and "she" are not clearly defined, but because I am limited by the constraints of the English language, "she" and "he" here referred to the assumed sexes of the figures prior to the revelation of their respective secrets.

What is the selling point of this narrative? Campari sells itself on the idea of passion (as well as its secret recipe), and this secret rendezvous is supposed to represent that passion: a passion that is illicit erotic, and risque, that transgresses normative bounds, and that is intensely personal and revelatory. Of course, this selling point rests on the very assumptions that Judith Butler decries: the assumption that heterosexuality is the norm while homosexuality or transexuality or anything other than heterosexuality is the "other." Our visceral reaction to this ad depends on our assumptions of sexuality. Are we indignant that this secret has to be a "secret" at all (the two figures are "coming out" to one another)? Why is this particular act a "secret" at all? If indeed heterosexuality is not "normative" then the shock value of this ad might decrease. Perhaps Campari is capitalizing on both the fascination with and fetishization of transgendered individuals while exploiting the assumption that the transsexual is the "other" - the being which must be kept (pun intended) under wraps.

**Other things to consider:
-Norms regarding men pursuing women (and vice versa)

-Ethnicity and "gender-bending"?

Watch 'Em While You're High

Advertisers tend to know their target audiences – how to get their blood pumping, their mouths watering, and their Youtube search engines running. Commercials are designed to provoke an emotional or physical reaction in the viewer, and they're no fun when you’re obviously not part of the target audience (Magical Disney Family Cruises, Viagra). However, it can be entertaining to sit back and watch a commercial that's meant for someone else. Like earlier this week, I was mid-episode of Modern Family, suffering through one of those forced commercial breaks, when an Axe commercial came on that was definitely targeting dudes. It was funny, and I watched with smug detachment.

One of the most frequently overlooked, but substantially large commercial-viewing demographics is Stoners. The beautiful thing about Stoners is that (almost) every commercial is meant for them. When you’re high, a ten-second, digital close-up of microbes being demolished by some Febreeze-wieldin’ housewife can feel utterly profound. Raisin Bran looks infinitely delectable. The Bachelorette is literally the funniest show to ever grace reality TV. But while 99.9% of commercials may appeal to Stoners, they can be sorted into three distinct categories: Intentionally Interesting, Accidentally Fascinating, and Slyly Mesmerizing.

In recent years, the first category (Intentionally Interesting to Stoners) seems to be largely going out of style. In the seventies, I guess advertisers expected the vast majority of their viewers to be slouchily sucking down jays while they watched TV, because even Rice Krispies commercials were obscenely trippy. But Levi’s Jeans (our good ol’ fashioned American Co) might just win the prize for Best Commercial to Watch While High.

One slightly more recent example of Intentionally Interesting is the Carlton Blonde Beer commercial. However, if you’re of the Stoner variety that gets more-than-kinda paranoid, it may cause you to feel unduly anxious that the world is unravelling. The classic Sony Bravia commercial, (otherwise known as "the ball commercial,") comes across like the brainchild of a bunch of weed lovin' graphic designers with a penchant for indie rock. At the very least, it’s relaxing; on a good high, it feels spiritual.

Lately, the Accidentally Fascinating to Stoners category seems to be on the rise. These are commercials that are mildly interesting to the general public, but that feel terrifying, euphoric or intriguing when you’re high. For instance, there's the apocalyptic feeling that hits you when you're watching Pepsi’s Shaq Attack commercial. The plot goes like this: Pepsi-drinkers in various locales around the globe stare in shock and desperation as their Pepsi bottles drain mysteriously in front of their eyes, presumably into some invisible cosmic sinkhole. You're waiting in shoulder-tensed agony for a cataclysmic clincher -- so when the commercial ends with the suggestion, "Be Young, Have Fun," it feels like some kinda SICK JOKE.

In a similar vein, there's the Duracell Batteries Ultra Lithium commercial, in which a horde of pink bunnies morph en masse into an aggressive monster-giant comprised entirely of living, screaming bunny-faces. I'm pretty sure this commercial is scary to the average viewing-audience, but if you’re high, it could make you want to lie down in an empty bathtub, turn off the lights and cry/ write poems about the coercive mechanisms of capitalism.

Slyly Mesmerizing is perhaps the most sinister category -- a reminder that, yes, advertisers really, really know what they’re doing. Not only do these commercials seem perfectly unsuspicious to a regular viewing audience, they may even appear innocent to a True Stoner during rare moments of sobriety. But if you're peering at the commercial through weed-stained eyes and droopy lids, the subliminal messages come screaming off the screen. For example, one of Taco Bell’s recent commercials looks pretty regular – a dude at a fancy restaurant who really just wants a burrito – when all of a sudden, a dancing spiral of meat explodes into the background, twisting and gyrating, eight feet tall and oozing with delicious, rhythmic grease. Sure, it’s only up there for two seconds. But if you’re high, it's a mind-bomb that will explode half an hour later when you're careering through red lights on your way toward some Late Nite TB.

Of course, the exploitation of marijuana-induced consumer vulnerability is nothing new. The older Taco Bell commercials were even more shamelessly manipulative. For a list of great hypothetical weed ads, check out this article by blogger Tess Lynch at Good Health, where she invented a few perfect commercials for stoners. And Watch Responsibly!

A Fantastic Example of Guerrilla Marketing

I wrote about guerrilla marketing yesterday, only to discover today what I think is one of the best examples of guerrilla marketing I have ever seen.

Here's what happens:

You've somehow made it to this website, STATE OF CHAOS - with the subtitle "THIS YEAR'S BLOCKBUSTER ON YOUR BLOCK." You're curious. You're impulsive (did you read the fine print at the bottom? I didn't - and didn't think for a second about giving my street address away - but that's another story).

After you've decided to provide this State of Chaos website with your street address (and maybe your last name), you click the button "UNLEASH CHAOS" because well, chaos is meant to be unleashed (and your friend told you this website was really cool).

 Next thing you know, you find yourself in YOUR neighborhood. No, I'm not kidding. Your actual neighborhood. You recognize the trees and streets and houses and everything. And on top of that, there is a colossal, Herculean, Megatron-like robo-monster stomping through the yard - YOUR yard. If you're like me, you're still in shock and awe that you are actually seeing YOUR neighborhood. YOUR house. YOUR trees. YOUR driveway. The 3-D modeling is unreal.

You're viewing your house through the eyes of the destructive robot, who is apparently on a rampage and has set your house as his next target. Resident located. And in the next second, your house explodes, smashed into smithereens. You're launched into space, and from a Google Earth bird's eye perspective, you see a burst of flames: your home has been destroyed.

Your first reaction is how epic and cool that whole simulation was. Technology' has come a long way these days, you think to yourself. You're fascinated by how real that video was, how much it was like that last video game you played, how personalized this actualization of a Godzilla-led doomsday really was.

And then this screen pops up.

STATE FARM.

BE PREPARED. BE VERY PREPARED.

Me? I was shocked. Then incredibly impressed. 

Shocked that this was an advertisement.

And then impressed that this was an advertisement (*especially by State Farm. Their TV commercials are pretty boring and unmemorable).

That State Farm could play off of so many of our current culture's obsessions, interests, and digital platforms while reinforcing their own status as "protector" is both creative and innovative.

What this campaign really does is solidify State Farm as a "cool" company. A forward-thinking, creative company with great packaging and presentation (I'm thinking along the lines of Apple right now). Next time you're choosing your insurance, you'll think back to this ad campaign. Of course, there's nothing in this ad that really substantiates State Farm's insurance policy as being better or less expensive or more valuable than any other policy, but that's not what you remember as a consumer (more often than not). You remember the AURA that was created. The aura is the message.

(TRY IT FOR YOURSELF HERE.) 

Guerrilla Marketing

It's safe to say that ads are ubiquitous these days. Ads play a role in almost every medium: print (magazines), television, DVDs, internet, online videos, etc. They've wormed their way into spaces that were previously non-commercial and are now so commonplace that we don't even bat an eye. You're sitting on the toilet and the back of the stall door is advertising the nightclub down the street; if you've taken a Ryanair flight, you'll notice ads on the back of the airplane seat. Ads proliferate in subway stations (both on the ground and on the wall) and on the sides of bus stops; they're on your Facebook sidebars. They pop up randomly as you're surfing the web.

Which is why it takes a lot more for us to pay attention. It takes a little shock and awe, a little bit of surprise, which is what guerrilla marketing tries to bring advertising.

What is guerrilla marketing?

It's not so much a formalized mode of working but a concept - a term defined by Jay Conrad Levinson in his book Guerrilla Marketing. According to marketingterms.com, guerrilla marketing is "Unconventional marketing intended to get maximum results from minimal resources." The website further discusses guerrilla marketing as being more about "matching wits than matching budgets" and "[sniping] away […] marketing resources for maximum impact."

In other words, it means getting creative with advertising campaigns - not necessarily by funneling more money into them, but by getting creative and grabbing people's attention by presenting them with something out of the ordinary or clever or funny or both.

Here are a few examples:

If anything, these advertisements will at least elicit general amusement and perhaps a chuckle. But the idea of advertising as being a guerrilla act is interesting because of its connotations: insurgence, war, civilian, ambush, and sabotage. Is this kind of advertising really any kind of insurgence or ambush? In my opinion, no. It works within a particular marketing system and model, and people are taken aback more by its content or context than its mode. If graffiti is likened to guerrilla art, then I can see how guerrilla advertising shares a few similarities with graffiti: it pops up in unexpected places; it utilizes provocative (or at least evocative) imagery and words, and its wit might make you pause and think, for at least a second. But beyond shaking the norms and conventions of advertising in its placement and imagery, I think guerrilla marketing is most subversive in its promotion of the idea that effective (or at least attention-grabbing) advertising campaigns do not need to be backed by huge financial sums*. Money and power are often directly correlated with advertising, but guerrilla marketing provides an alternative. 

As a very visually-inspired person, I am refreshed and energized by the idea that advertising, which I often view as a deceptive, cunning tactic of corporate greed, can actually be a platform for creativity, art, and imagination. Advertising can indeed be an artistic endeavor. After all, contexts aside, we inscribe artworks in our memory in the same way we inscribe advertising campaigns: the advertising campaigns we remember most are the ones that strike a chord in us, whether they are meaningful, funny, beautiful, disgusting, or flat-out abhorrent.

*According to Jay Conrad Levinson, the principles of guerrilla marketing include:
(taken from Wikipedia)

• Guerrilla Marketing is specifically geared for the small business and entrepreneur.
• It should be based on human psychology rather than experience, judgement, and guesswork.
• Instead of money, the primary investments of marketing should be time, energy, and imagination.
• The primary statistic to measure your business is the amount of profits, not sales.
• The marketer should also concentrate on how many new relationships are made each month.
• Create a standard of excellence with an acute focus instead of trying to diversify by offering too many diverse products and services.
• Instead of concentrating on getting new customers, aim for more referrals, more transactions with existing customers, and larger transactions.
• Forget about the competition and concentrate more on cooperating with other businesses.
• Guerrilla marketers should use a combination of marketing methods for a campaign.
• Use current technology as a tool to build your business.
• Messages are aimed at individuals or small groups, the smaller the better.
• Focuses on gaining the consent of the individual to send them more information rather than trying to make the sale.
• Commit to your campaign. Use Effective frequency instead of creating a new message theme for each campaign.

Primal Instincts: Food and Sex

Sex sells.

Sure it does.

But since when did sex start selling food?

In the following Quizno's commercial, an oven (with a radio announcer voice) acts as the seducer, who engages in a dialogue that has the semblance of foreplay with a sandwich-eater named Scott.

"Scott, I want you to do something."

"Not doing that again. That burnt."

"We both enjoyed that."

...

"The new tasty torpedo?"

"Yes, Scott. You make one."

"Me?

"Put it in me Scott."

...

"Say it sexy, Scott."

If we're looking at Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs pyramid, the most fundamental needs at the base of the pyramid are physiological - a category which includes both food and sex, and yet the intersection of the two can be uncomfortable, namely because we'd like to relegate the former to the quotidian and the latter to... well, the bedroom. The dovetailing of food and sex has quite a history of course. It's easy to conjure up images we've seen in art history of concubines feeding grapes to a fat king or pick out old wives' tales about aphrodisiac foods (e.g. oysters, saffron, ambergris). The word "carnal" has the same roots as the Spanish word for braised or roasted pork, "carnitas." Certainly, with our current culture's mega-obsession with gourmet and gourmandizing, eating is chalked up to be a sensual activity. 

But still, these ads (the Quizno's TV commercial and the Burger King ad below) go far beyond labeling food as an aphrodisiac. In both ads, the sandwich is the penis. Are these companies trying to tell us that food is as pleasurable as sex? Or is it all one huge psychological advertising ploy that lionizes sex as the underlying motivation for the rest of or actions? Maybe these ads are playful, or maybe they are taking the food and sex combination a little too far. After all, the effectiveness of these ads is grounded the assumption that we are purely sexual creatures that cater only to our most primal instincts - which elicits the question: is advertising reductive and dehumanizing?

 

Go Forth & Multiply Profitz

We're launching this blog with Levi’s Go Forth ad campaign – not because it’s an exquisite example of global marketing (which it is), or an unabashedly aggressive effort to co-opt national ideals (which it definitely is), but because I really enjoy the ads. I like them! When the Go Forth commercials come on in movie theaters, I'm racked with emotion in my seat in the greasy dark – anachronistic nostalgia, baseless patriotism. And yesterday, as I perused my October issue of Rolling Stone, the Levi’s full-page ad seemed so beautiful (all those fireworks and freedom) that I ripped it out and sticky-tacked it to my wall, where it joined the illustrious ranks of Pink Floyd and Kurt Cobain.

Here's why I like Levi’s latest advertising scheme – and it goes beyond my penchant for classic Americana imagery. With this campaign, the Levi advertisers are placing faith in the fact that American kids can still respond to un-ironic media, or that we still get sentimental sometimes. This campaign is to the ad-world as Springsteen is to rock-world – straddling the fine line between nostalgic cool and ridiculous, and ultimately hoping that the audience wants to be seduced. Of course, we’re all hyper-aware of being manipulated, so the campaign’s blatant appeal to our hyper-American emotions might end up being massively unsuccessful. But there’s no hint of the typikal postmodern message-encryption in their advertising; there's nothing to “figure out,” no cleverly embedded jokes. It’s a disarmingly straightforward idealization of frontier America, and if you watch one of their minute-long videos, the intended messages are clear: beautiful kids are fighting in the streets, revolution is in the air, fuck the Man, America is still a vast wilderness to be explored, and “Now Is Our Time.”

This strikes me as a super-optimistic campaign in the United States, hoping to access some dormant, irony-free patriotism in the hearts of American youth – but it seems even more improbable beyond America's borderz. I mean, Levi's Jeans Co hardly changes its tactics at all when marketing denim in China and India, which just goes to show that they're peddling "classic America" -- not jeans.

Whether or not the campaign succeeds in selling jeans, part of me hopes that somebody in every movie-theater feels shaken and stunned after the commercial fizzles out into the scratchy image of a sparkler, while Walt Whitman’s voice reverberates in the dark. I hope that one heart in every audience beats faster at images of fireworks and empty lots and multiracial makeout sessions, even if those feelings are trumped soon afterwards by the too-true reminder, “They’re pants.” It's hard to say how successful this campaign will be in the long run. But at least the advertisers seem to be exploiting patriotism over materialism, nostalgia over newness -- which, in the end, is placing a lot of faith in We the Consumers.

One of the (in)famous Go Forth commercials.

And another one, feat. Walt Whitman Himself!

This is what I found in my Rolling Stone mag.

And this is version number two (in Chinese).